Doctor Who_ The Sleep of Reason - Martin Day [61]
‘You’ll find out soon enough. What I need you to do is contact the police, get an ambulance here – though there’s nothing they’ll be able to do for him.
I’ve tried phoning but the line’s dead.’
‘That was one hell of a storm last night,’ said Tracy. ‘It came from nowhere.
Must have knocked down one of the poles or something.’
‘I need you to pop out and phone 999,’ said Liz. ‘If you can’t get your mobile to work there’s a phone box on Charnage Lane, just before you get to the village.’
‘No problem,’ said Tracy. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
She grabbed her coot from the peg on the back of the door and headed for the car park. She knew there was no point trying her mobile: even if you could get a signal you could guarantee the connection would drop at the most vital moment. The sudden storm had been followed by blank skies and sub-zero temperatures. Her red Metro was covered with frost; there was some antifreeze in the boot but, typically, she couldn’t get it open. The back of her glove dealt with the worst of the ice on the front windscreen; after much cursing, the driver’s door opened.
She turned the ignition, switched on the rear demist, put all the blowers on maximum. Almost immediately the interior temperature began to rise – a fault in the car’s thermostat, the last mechanic she’d spoken to had said. It was great in winter, but a pain the rest of the year when Tracy had to drive round in a T-shirt with both windows down just to survive. She really should get the car sorted out, but there never seemed to be quite enough money to get it repaired properly. At the end of every month the story was the same: a big, fat zero in the bank account, or worse.
105
Soon she was off down the winding drive, taking it easy as she tried the front wipers. After a few nervous, protesting sweeps the remains of the ice on the screen cleared sufficiently for Tracy to feel confident with the winding lanes that led from the Retreat to the neighbouring towns and villages; another hundred yards or so and she’d be at the gatehouse, just beyond the bend that kept it almost entirely out of sight of the main building, then a left and it was only a couple of miles to the phone box just outside Norton.
A dark figure appeared in the centre of the drive, midway between her car and the gatehouse. He’d come out of nowhere.
Tracy slammed on the brakes.
The rear wheels locked; the car began to swing to one side, its front wheels squealing against the loose gravel. Still the car seemed to be sliding towards the person standing in the driveway – through the smeared windscreen Tracy couldn’t make out features or clothing, just a sense of gathered darkness and an absolute lack of fear – and she knew the car wouldn’t stop in time.
In a split second she released the brakes, reapplied them. Finally they bit, but the sideways momentum made the car lurch alarmingly.
There was an explosive noise. In a moment she was upside down. Glass everywhere. It had only taken a second or two for the man to appear, for the car to flip over.
There was a salty taste in her mouth. One arm felt suddenly hot and swollen. The seatbelt locked her in place. She instinctively pulled at the buckle, distantly heard a shrill noise – realised it was her own voice, screaming something – tried to push the door open.
It only took another second or two for the windscreen to shatter as someone, something, hurled itself at the glass; another moment and the dark shape had pushed its way into the car.
A second later and all was darkness.
106
Eleven
Spy vs Spy
(Life’s a Riot)
‘Mind if I join you?’
Laska looked up from her bowl of cornflakes. Dr Smith stood over her, a plate of dry toast in one hand and a mesmeric smile on his face.
Laska grunted. ‘It’s a free country.’
‘Indeed it is.’ Smith sat opposite Laska, positioning the toast just so in front of him. He proceeded to toy with the plate absently, rotating it first one way, then the other, but making no attempt to eat. In fact, now she thought of it, she’d never seen, still less could even imagine,